I use a point system for all the women in my life.
Wren wrinkled her nose. Ew. That was sort of sexist of him.
Okay, fine. That was totally sexist of him.
Even your mom????
Gross, never my mom.
She laughed and shook her head, getting ready to answer him when another text appeared.
Right now you top the list.
What list?
My points list. You’re at 100/100.
Her heart flipped over itself. So stupid. He just admitted to using a points system and rating women, and she was happy because she had a perfect score? What the hell was wrong with her?
I’m honored.
You should be. No other woman has scored that high.
Wren nibbled on her lower lip. They were totally flirting. Not sexting, but this was some major flirtation going on.
How do I rate so special?
You’re just . . .
She frowned, watching the gray conversation bubble appear, the little dots showing that he was texting. Then they stopped. Started up again. But still no reply.
She was just . . . what?
“Ugh.” She set the phone down and dumped her paper plate in the trash, refilled her water bottle, and went back to her phone to see if he’d responded yet.
He had—with one simple word.
You.
Oh. Wow. That was the simplest yet sweetest thing a guy had ever said to her. Or maybe she was making more out of this than she should. This wasn’t a big deal, right? Was she making it more of a big deal?
Her phone dinged again.
What are you doing?
I just ate dinner.
Me too.
A pause. Another text.
What are you wearing right now?
Wren glanced around like someone could see her. She was being ridiculous.
Um, I don’t know if I should tell you.
If you’re naked, just break it to me gently. I’m in a roomful of people right now.